Gordon Brown is neither a magus nor unlucky

By Mary Riddell

12:01AM GMT 28 Nov 2007

It's hard to imagine Gordon Brown on Comic Relief. Especially in the sketch performed, not long ago, by his predecessor. "Am I bovvered?" asked Mr Blair during his routine with the comedian Catherine Tate.

In Mr Brown's case, no one would conclude that he ain't bovvered. Concern is tattooed on his face as the forces of bovveration assail him. Missing discs, revolting generals and Northern Rock are enough to test any leader's nerve. The evolving funding scandal may yet test his ability to survive.

Like many heartfelt politicians, Mr Brown lacks artifice. His anger and his tiredness show. This makes him appear even more troubled than he is, and it makes those who watch him nervous that crises are even deeper than they really are. Mr Brown looks as if he could do with a week at Sir Cliff Richard's beach house or being plastered with the beige make-up on which Mr Blair spent so much taxpayers' money.

Since neither solution fits his tastes, he must find other ways of diffusing the idea that he is beset by gloom and rage. Those who know Mr Brown best say that, while he is having "bad moments", he is far from despair. "He's not going round with a portable cloud in a haze of misery," says one friend.

On the current mess, Brown and his allies agree that "if this is as bad as it gets, then it's bearable". They do not, however, see how to get back on course. As one says: "If we knew how to do that, we'd already have done it."

The endpoint is clear enough. Brown's "vision" is timed to come of age in May 2009 when long-term aims, such as the welfare reforms and anti-inflation measures laid out in his CBI speech, reach fruition just as Cameron's policies are looking most hollow. Then, according to a friend, "Gordon will be attacking with devastating effect."

But that onslaught relies on many things, not least whether he is still around to launch it. If events do not engulf him, then image might. So Gordon must change. But how? Everyone has a wish list of bolder policies. Scrap Trident and ID cards would be my starting point, but neither looks likely. That leaves a style makeover. But politicians are not Mr Potatohead. You cannot simply rearrange the stick-on facial features and swap the scowl for a smile.

In that case, critics say, Brown must embrace new advisers. Stories that he is now taking his counsel from Cabinet "greybeards" are not true. Nor is the idea that a "women's summit", hosted by Harriet Harman, would lead Labour out of the doldrums. (This suggestion sounds more fanciful given Brown's haste to distance himself from his deputy after the revelation that Harman unknowingly received campaign money tainted by the funding debacle.)

According to one senior minister, the chief talking point for Labour's women is "how to prise this macho agenda away from the boys". Mr Brown has changed. He has a commendably grounded wife, and his crisis-dominated schedule has been built round going to watch his older son perform in his nursery Christmas play. Yet his political style still reflects his taste for pizza with the boys, and Raith Rovers.

He recognised, long before this week's opinion polls reminded him, that he must connect better with voters, especially women. Hence his (frustrated) wish to hire Fiona Phillips, of GMTV, and make her a baroness and minister. In the absence of the Fiona Factor, Mr Brown stays staunch to a more tested female icon. Margaret Thatcher remains, through this crisis, his model. As he has said: "I am a conviction politician like her."

Mr Brown walks the conviction road with the same small coterie that has surrounded him for years. But while his inner circle of advisers and friends has not expanded, his enemies have multiplied. Parents, farmers and truckers are seething, as well as the groups that enrage Brownites: the generals, for staging their "mini-coup" while the PM was in Uganda, and the nameless mandarins briefing on "dysfunctional" government and "cliques". Mr Brown has also acquired some unexpected cheerleaders. Tessa Jowell, who owes him no obvious favours, has loyally denied that government is losing its grip. Other senior figures should be more bold. Brown may not seek their advice, but they should give it anyway.

If the Prime Minister is to recover, as he can and should, then he will emerge stronger. The myth that he was once a magus for withstanding some rain, a micro-outbreak of foot-and-mouth and a terrorist attack that killed only the terrorist was as foolish as the current superstition that he is "unlucky". After this grim week, nothing else will seem so bad. Bloodied and hardened, he will never again be reduced to quivering fury when Mr Cameron makes some snippy remark over the dispatch box.

An altered Brown might already be emerging. At his news conference yesterday, he fended off tough questions with equanimity and even the odd smile. Yet, if anything, he sounded tougher and more serious. He also managed to look a bit less bovvered.